Touhou Byakuren - Memories of a cosmic Mind
by Gaigaia
Summary: Byakuren Hijiri tries to remember how things came to be, evaluating the decisions she made during her life. It's a story ridden with introspective journeys and poetic images, and I hope you enjoy reading it.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own touhou nor it's characters.

Also, I'm interested in getting together with other artists. Would anyone be interested in making Doujin, or draw pictures, of compose songs about the fanfic, feel free to contact me.

I also have read the fanfic, and the video is here: youtube /watch?v=G5FCld3ye1w

Image link: zerochan net / 260202#full

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Memories of a Cosmic Mind

Chapter I - A young bamboo sprout waving by the change of seasons

___How things came to be, of such could we ever truly be certain?  
Past, remembered, is not how things truly happen, but just a phantasm of the facts  
Nevertheless, the phantasm of my memories recall of a bird singing  
And the purple rays of the sunset..._

I soundly can still remember those shimmering still days of winter. At the stone steps, I used to sweep away the yesterday fallen snow. My old shoes hopelessly trying to fight the frost with no avail. From somewhere else, a bird sang that sweet tune, and images of tenderness would reach my mind. Ah yes, yet I was a girl, despite my maiden's body. A flower in bloom, muscles firmly knitted within my bones, earned through harsh daily training. A body fashioned slender and thin, however dense and strong, as the young bamboo sprout in the rushed winds of autumn. From mainland China, from a temple hidden inside a little forest, my family brought that Zen Buddhism art to strengthen our flesh and calm our mind. Even though such training was severe, even though the routine harsh, much glad I was in those days. Meshed deep in my body were the fruits of my sincere effort, for I was a strong healthy gal.

I say gladness filled my days back then, but that was only the product of intense willing from my part. To be true, those were hard times, and smiles were often followed by silent tears. And, would I dare to shed those tears, making them visible for all to see, the inclement winter would make them, and me, shatter. The big empty house, with it's big stone and wooden walls now hosting only ghosts and long lost memories, once had many different smiles in it. Happy chatter, idle days bathing at the summer sun. You could still hear the fresh scent of berries well cooked in the now abandoned kitchen, each one accompanied with the taste of kind motherly words. At the afternoon, father would bring fish, and the children, tired from training and playing all day, would be back from their adventures. But these are figments of imagination, concepts of a life before even when I was girl in a maiden's body. Those were days where I could not even say what color was my hair, and name each petal that would fall from my heart. How many were I in those days? I could not say. In truth, I could not even count me apart of others, but I can say that I was everywhere in that old, old house. My feet stepped all those steps. My voice knew only kind words and happy screeches. My hair, which I could not name it's color, was everywhere, in every face, all different and yet the same.

Now I am able to tell that I'm one, but the house cannot forget that once there were more here. And that never ending reminiscence brings me joy and sadness. I welcome such joy as I welcome the snow and the sun, with lighthearted smile, and I fight this sadness as I fashion my muscles, with fiery determination. I must be iron to withstand it all, but iron is always so cold. Why do I fear cold so much? From somewhere else, may a bird sing that song of willingful kindness?

Though I could name myself as one, I could not count myself alone. There, on those winter slopes, brother would be back from the woods. Would he bring game from a successful hunt? Or would that be a night of serene hunger, grudging the cold weather? I might ready the fire and prepare the food, or maybe mildly embrace him and say kind comforting words. No need to be sad for an uneventful hunt, coming back with empty hands to show. Because coming back, both legs standing still, with a smile as tender as the spring, was something more than enough to show.

Sometimes, when his silhouette was outlined by the drowsing sunset, I could see all the purples of the dusk sky laid upon his hair. Never with less than kind words could I ever greet him, for never less than kindness have I ever felt beholding his figure coming near our forgotten house. Would that be a night of feasting? So we would fill our bellies. Would that be one of hunger? Then, we would fill our hearts, sitting next to each other. I would be silently smiling with fulfilled realization. He would giggle, aloud, by my side, the cutest tune, like a bird somewhat far, although near.

Now I'm a maiden, and also a girl ridden with fear. Do you remember, old stone cut house, when his warm kisses my front would host? When coldness was but a pleasureful scare, waiting to be pushed away by the tender embrace brother always would save for me? And, if my form would weaken during training, or my steps and strikes falter, there would he always be to correct my mistakes, to complement me.

Together, we guided our life far away from the world, together in our mausoleum of memories and dreams. Every day, exercising our bodies to withstand the elements, and our minds to withstand the suffering of life, we burned away like cherry blossoms. And I remember to have seen many others, young and handsome as they be, that would grab my fancy and redden my face. Yet, despite how handsome would those be, none would be like brother – for his body was a flower. If Nirvana's thousand petaled lotus did not have him there to greet me with his placid teaching smile, then Nirvana would not be enough for me.

But, through nature's inflexible grace, seasons change, and our desires follow them. There was I, a maiden, bones hard as steel, with my mind overbeared with fears. Those fears, I knew them well. They hunted me before, when the house was filled with happy chatter. And now they hunted me again. Why would brother lay down so cold? Many screams rushed my mind, and I knew somewhere else, although I could not hear, a bird was singing a tune. But I also knew that that tune was with a nature strange to kindness, the hot and warm kindness brother and I would be used to burn away throughout those lonely sorrowful seasons.

That long, longing lone cry of an unkind bird...should I reach it?

(For all the readers, I would be glad to hear what you though of the text. Feel free to leave comments and send me a message )


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II – Illusions of mind and reality; the tempting song of unlife (24/11/2013)

Memories are lies. They change every time we try to recollect them. They are not guarded in our minds, waiting to answer our call with a dutiful response. No, they are will-o-wisps in the fogy swamp of our self, guiding us wherever they want. Every time we remember, we are not reading a written story, but writing a new one.

And that is why I cannot, with certainty, say that the girl that lives in my memories was me. How could I, or anyone, be sure of something they remember? That girl could be someone else living inside me, telling of a time where I had no name to call myself, where I was part of a family. Other memories rush in my mind. Memories of war, of duty, of chants at the breaking dawn, of tender kisses and beautiful desires. All those memories blur inside me, the older they are, the harder it is to have a grasp of them.

But all that raging river of recollections become a placid lake at one point. Everything clarifies at that moment when brother stood still, never to move again, at the cold winter day. I can't say exactly how brother was and how we lived, but all memories I have of him are ones of utmost kindness, love and respect. Sometimes, I remember me running, searching for him. Sometimes, it's him running to me. Sometimes, I remember his smiles, other times, his embrace. He would name me as the pure white lotus, Byakuren. That became not only my name, but also the name of our love. Our pure white lotus love, Myouren, the fresh young monk, and Byakuren. No matter what love we cherished in those old days tainted by deceitful memories, I can see no love purer than ours.

When life left brother's body, it was as if I have awoken from a very cloudy dream. Suddenly, all colors dulled, and my body, strong as iron, trembled. I was impotent, completely helpless against such opponent. How to fight what cannot be struck by fists, what cannot be hurt by blade or arrow? Death was the worst and less honorable of all enemies, for it was able to hurt all, yet never let itself be hurt. I cried. I screamed. I stood my fist high up in the sky, menacing all gods above and below. Only silence answered me. That silence was the mockery of reality, scolding me for my pitiful display of anger. Then, helpless, I got down to my knees and stood quietly, watching my once kind and warm brother be swallowed by the endless falling snow.

I could not even bury him. Maybe because of shock, maybe because of fear. Maybe because I told me that he would wake up. He had to wake up. But, in the end, I was not able to bury him, to allow me to accept his demise. When his face was covered completely by the unrelenting white carpet, I was shaking. With nothing in mind, except maybe for regret and fear, I ran away. No place I had in mind, just wanted to run, to escape. If I ran enough, maybe I could find an exit that would guide me where once I was happy, guide me to that kind cloudy dream where I used to live in. My striding led me nowhere. Aimlessly I ran, and for so long that, in the end, I was not even able to get lost.

Sometime during that blind run, I heard a song. It came from a bird, at least that is what my memories tell me. That bird might have been someone, or maybe it was my desire, or my fears. The bird sang of forbidden tomes brought from mainland China together with the Zen art I followed. I tried not to hear it's tempting tunes, but, deep inside, within my heart, I could do nothing but bend, for the bird said that "Such tomes could even dispel the illusion of death".

Reality is an illusion, that I was taught, and that I believed. Life, death, memories, fears, passions...and love, all of them and everything are just lies that cage ourselves in this world. Attachments that prevent us from attaining complete realization, Nirvana. The summer breeze that would blow in my locks of hair and the cold snow that would burn my feet were equally poisonous. One would lock you in happiness, the other in suffering. Everything should be detached with. Even my brother's smile, his gentle touch, his flower scent – even it was but a trap of reality that should be cast to oblivion.

I sang the mantras, I trained my body, I read and believed in all the wisdom. Yet, I could not let everything go. I could not free myself of my desires. How ashamed I felt at that moment when I could not resist what the bird said to me. She sang everything I wanted, everything I lusted to, all those delightful notes of temptation, all those sweet words that lured my earthly desires. Although strong as iron, I could not fight off that bird, cast her away to the shadows whence it came.

And the hardest part for me to accept is that, at first, I did not listen to what that nightmare bird had to say. "I know where you can find a way to dissolve all your sadness", it said. But I did not listen. "I know where you can run away from all problems", it said. But I did not care. "I know where you can find a way to bring your brother back", it said, with the smile of a serpent. At that time, I turned my back and walked away. "I know where you can find a way to be beyond death", it said, with gleaming smile. When I heard that, I halted and came back to hear more.

It was not the love for my brother that made me betray everything I was ever taught. It was my fear of death. Selfishness polluted all the petals in my heart. I perverted the pure white lotus name that I was once called by. Could I still be called as such?

"There are tomes, my dear young itinerary monk, that can teach one to overcome the dharma, the illusion of self". Itinerary monk, Hijiri, that is how I was called by that bird. Not a pure lotus Byakuren, but a lost itinerary monk Hijiri. "They can teach you to be blind, and yet to see. To be deaf, and yet to hear. For the things you see and hear with your eyes and ears are not the real things, but only shadows. And shadows, my dear young itinerary monk, can be trifled with. Such tomes could even dispel the illusion of death".

Sometimes, when I concentrated hard enough, I could feel reality dissolving all around me. I could feel that, indeed, it was only an illusion. But it was strong and unbending, and no matter how much I accepted it for the lie it really was, I could not pierce through it. If it was just an illusion, why couldn't I just erase it altogether?

Because the desire to erase reality, erase pain and happiness, suffering and joy is, in the end, also an illusion. To desire to shape reality is, in itself, another prison that reality cast upon you. What we feel, what we taste, what we sense are just shadows. And the only way to shape shadows, the only way to mend dark, is with the forbidden arcane arts.

"You will teach me sorcery?", my voice sounded timid and afraid. The bird smiled. "The tomes may teach you how to toy with the shadows of the world, would you get a hold of them?". The question I said following was inevitable: "And where can I find those tomes?", which the bird replied "Just follow my song, lost Hijiri", and the bird flew away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Naming shadows; lies told to the lie of reality**

At this point, memories start, once again, to agitate and jump. I wander why are things this way. We tend to remember only the happiest and saddest of the moments. Sometimes, even those remarkable times we forget, blocking them out of our minds. Maybe we are afraid that, would we remember happiness from a moment in the past, we would lose hope for the bitter future that awaits us. Maybe we are just ashamed of our acts, and try hiding those thoughts and memories the hardest we can as a way to abscond our failures.

When brother died, that moment was forever imprinted in my mind, for the best or the worst of it. That memory is forged deep on me, never to let itself go, never to let itself sink, to let itself be streamed away by the rivers of conscience. But, what followed that moment when I darted through the woods searching for that bird of omens, of that I'm not entirely sure. I know that, eventually, my ears caught it's sour tunes and I was able to guide my way through that nightmare.

Across forests and mountains, rivers and lakes I went, and eventually I ended up at that long lost mausoleum, the stone and wooden monastery temple of my dreams. When I catch myself lost in thoughts, gazing at the full dark night sky, I ask myself if my memories – all those memories as deep as the deepest void of the universe – are really there, really mine...or just another lie that I tell to myself. When I gaze the night sky in those moments where fear takes control of me, I remember that old stone house where I might have had a family once, although that family might just be a phantasmagoria of my mind. But it is certain that, no matter if those memories of happiness are real or not, it was there, inside those cryptic cold walls, that I've found the tomes.

They were festered with a miasma as thick as shame, as deep as guilt, laid abandoned at a hidden crypt inside the old stone monastery, like entombed secrets no one wanted to be revealed. They were with big molded covers, wrapping gigantic blocks of papers as long as a man's arm. Nevertheless, random sheets of paper could be seen sitting elsewhere, torn apart, at the stone floor. The tomes were written not in my language, but it's alien writing, when read aloud, did make sense. It was like some sort of macabre tune whose meaning should be felt, not understood.

I felt disgusted the moment I rested my eyes upon their visage, even more when I touched those blighted texts. Touching them was like a perversion on itself. I knew it was wrong to even sought them out, to even think about them. To touch them was even worst. It was as if my own self consorted with filth, the flower of my heart dipped in the very essence of suppuration. Those books held the keys to spit at the face of reality, and they festered my soul with the knowledge to bend the shadow of my body.

After I meddled naively with the books for a while, I begin to lose hope. Was that the right thing to do? To let myself be corrupted by such thoughts and actions? "Are you dumb, are you stupid, or are you just weak, frail and small Hijiri?" the bird would say. I did not answer. I could not say the truth that, yes, I was afraid. "Don't worry, poor Hijiri, you will find what you want. Just roll in the darkness, just let yourself go with the flow. Don't fight it, don't shield yourself out of it, don't detach your body from it. Just let it blob, blender, bloom".

Much time had passed. I found myself still there, crawling in the dark, holding the screams of anguish inside my breast. Silence became my companion, for even the bird's peck was closed shut. But suddenly, something struck me, and I was assaulted by some sort of apotheosis, of dark realization. Everything around me became, at the same time, both new and familiar, as if I was seeing things for the first time in my life. I could perceive the traces and lines of reality, it's web of lies and shadows. A new world was blooming in front of me, like a black petaled lotus.

My heart was then pumping with excitement. I was a thief, stealing from the world it's power to lie to me. For the first time in a long time, I felt powerful, I felt in control. I was smiling, that guilty smile of a well executed crime. Oh, and my arms were shaking. That rush, that wild rush of bliss. I could not control my legs from bending. The weight of it, the strenght of it. Oh, Nirvana...neither even would be Nirvana that good. And yet...I yearned for more. With hands shaking, fingers wildly taping that stone floor, I grasped those sweet, tender disgusting filthy putrid tomes and gazed hungrily towards it's words.

Now, after my dark awakening, I tried reading those words of sorcery again. "Is that not enough, insatiable Hijiri? Does not even the truth of the world satisfy your hunger?", the bird said jokingly. But I could not care less for what it said anymore. Holding those tomes in my hands, I uttered the dark verses. I was deep inside the stone catacombs of the old monastery, only with a frail veil of light to guide my path. When those words were spoken, all light died. Everything was dark.

And that darkness surrounding me was the the most tender caress I have ever felt upon my yet naive maiden's body. Because, even though everything was dark, the world a big spot of black, I could yet feel everything. My body was everywhere. At the ceiling. At the walls. Inside the ancient stone. It was the darkness itself. I was blind, but could touch everything. My body was infinite.

I did not stop there. In the dark, I grabbed more of those delightful blightful tomes, and read by touch all those words of corruption. Every word spoken became a phantom, a shadow with no name, no face, an embodiment of desire that would circle me, taunt me to be with them, to go with them, to dance with them...And I danced! And I pranced! And I sang with them! I've became beyond human, beyond death! "Yes, dance, inhuman Hijiri. Dance with the demons and monsters, be one with them, you weak creature!" screamed that bird, but I did not listen! Not listen! Just danced that dance of death, now that death was but a play to me.

How many seasons have I danced, buried inside that cursed place? I could not say. I would never tire. Neither would I feel thirst or hunger. Never had a reason to stop, and the flower of my body never grew older, it's petal forever coated in an eternal darkness, an imperishable night blessed lotus. But, sometime in that eternity of bliss, I felt empty. It was a devastating void that exploded inside my heart. A painting of sorrow I could not devise. "What is the problem, misguided Hijiri? Have you lost yourself to shadows?".

Out of nowhere, I grasped for air, suffocating in the darkness itself. Even though my lungs did not need to breathe anymore, I felt as if I was going under an ocean of coldness. The shadow figures grabbed me, laughing at me while I pathetically tried to breathe. I was utterly confused, completely lost and extremely afraid. The shadows overwhelmed me. My heart was compressed. Death was smiling, as if to repay with fury my audacity to challenge her. I was dying.

Using the powers bestowed upon me by the dark sorcery, I was able to, at the last moment, take of the hands that were strangling my heart. Then, I cleaved my way through those halls of shadows. The creatures never once cried of pain, only grinning with great pleasure in their faces. Running, destroying the walls as I walked through, putting down that monastery and it's secrets, I slowly climbed my way out of that crypt. The bird followed me behind, "And now, perverted Hijiri, where is your heart? Have you bathed in waters deeper than you could swim?".

When I reached the surface, the sun was just rising, dawn was breaking, and all the shadows of the night sky were being cast away. I could feel the warm embrace of the sun as it rose upon the mountains, going up my body, blessing my feet, my ankles, my hip. Then, I breathed air for the first time in an eternity. And the air was empty.

I punched my chest, I scratched my throat, but I was still suffocating. Despair flooded my veins like cold steel slicing my flesh. What could I do? Someone tell me, what could I do to stop that limitless pain! "Why are you so dumbfounded, naive Hijiri?", said the bird behind me. The bird was inside my shadow. The sun was rising up in the sky, now it's rays were on my belly. I looked back, dry tears were cutting my face. "What have you done?", I screamed silently and faintly to my shadow bird, as it was slowly being driven away by the rising sun.

"What have you done?" replied the shadow, emphatically. "It's all your fault. All your damn fault! Why have you done it, why could you not let go? Why could you not let be?". And the bird replied, as an echo "Why have you done it, why could you not let go? Why could you not let be?". The sun was rising in the sky, now at my breast and arms. The shadow was ever thinner. Completely lost, I pointed my fist to the shadow bird, menacingly: "If you can't help, then you will pay, you damned fool! Can you pay the price?"...and the bird responded "...you damned fool...can you pay the price?".

The sun rose, his golden rays erasing my shadow and basking my head. And the sun burned my hair gold.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – A void of disgust; The golden hair that stole the smile of a flower**

The bird was gone, although in my mind I would always be searching for it so it could answer me what I have become. In every dark alley of my thoughts, in every dark corner of my memories, I would always be looking for, and running from that bird. It gave me what I wanted the most, but left me empty yearning for what I needed the most. For the best or worst of it, I would never find that bird again.

When the sun rose the day I escaped from the lost catacombs, it marked me, making my hair yellow as gold, condemning me to walk the earth forsaken. It was the punishment for my crimes, and accepted it. How could I blame anyone or anything but myself for the atrocities I've committed? I spitted at the face of reality, I perverted the laws of living. Now, every step taken by me was with the weight of the complete certainty that I was banished, that I did not belong anymore to this world.

When the breeze would blow in my face, I would not feel anymore that comforting sensation of yonder, but a strange chill would pierce through my spine. When rain would soak my dress, the dampness would permeate my bones, and my whole body would feel swollen and bloated as a big bubble of moss. When the heat of the sun licked my flesh, it would itch. And when the glorious moon would appear high in the sky, I could not stand seeing its face, a gigantic eye watching inside my ripped soul.

And beyond all those tribulations, one would rise higher than all. A thirst for air that would be darker and lower than everything. It was of such devastation that I could do little else than crawl for the first days after I escaped the old monastery. That lack of air, the feeling of not only emptiness, but of something escaping from inside me, could it be that I've lost my soul? I could not know. But, that sensation of drowning, of going under an eternity of weight, it was that very feeling when my brother died.

Are you now punishing me for my crimes, brother? Are you that void inside my breast, plucking the petals of the flower you once loved? I'm sorry, dear Myouren. Was your death my fault? I searched for you, my dear, from beyond the Toudai Temple I made my path. You were lost and I looked for you, the Buddha statue, Daibutsu, guided my way to you there, on that snowy path. I have found you! Have I found you? Have I failed you? Have I failed us? Memories are as transient as transient was our love. The white lotus you once cherished within your arms, the Byakuren where in her bosom you have rested your hair, is now dead. What's left is a stranger with no place to call home, a monk that could only love the road, Hijiri. Are you proud of your sister?

No matter what that void were, I was able to alleviate the pain it caused with meditation and unrelenting determination. I exercised my body through Zen, and my mind with the mantras of Buddha. But, even though the void was tamed, it could never be vanquished. I knew that, although sleeping, it was there, consuming me from the inside, waiting to wail its way out of me, waiting to send me back to that spiral of madness. Nevertheless, even as precarious as it was, I could control myself and my overwhelming emotions.

Meanwhile, I was always walking, wandering from place to place. With my new granted powers, I soon made a name for myself. People saw on my golden locks of hair some sort of good omen, prophecies of a 'golden warrior' to vanquish the evil and protect the just. My magic and sorcery mesmerized them, and I soon became a heroine in the minds of those simple people. I would walk by their city gates and they would smile and scream my name "The wandering monk is here, Hijiri is here". Their happiness, their smiles, their joy were all empty for me. They were hollow dolls.

The tomes changed me. They replaced fear of death with disgust for life. When I looked at the eyes of those simple peasants, I would see only sweat, stench, a life rolling in the mud and death. When I looked at children, I would see stupidity, a bunch of mindless creatures that knew nothing about suffering, stupid creatures that would eventually be taught the way of pain by the inflexibility of nature.

And more than anything, I disgusted myself. Yes, I hated the music, the art, the dancing, the cherishing, the holidays, the food, the drink and the lovely caresses that lovers would trade in a moment of happiness. But more than everything, I hated looking at me, at what I've become. I would run from any mirror, and every water calm enough to reflect my image, I would either strike or run from it. I could not... I did not have the strength to look at my body eternally young, never aging no matter how many years should pass. And my hair, once dark and serene as the night inside brother's eye, was now a mockery of gold.

I wish I could again feel that simple joy of laying at the floor, bathing in the sun rays of a summer day. I wish I could find that peace when watching the falling snow. But everywhere I looked, there was only hate and shame. And, beyond that hate and shame, was that all consuming void. Sometimes, even with all my power and training, I would lose control of it. The void would emerge, and my mind would be taken by fear once again.

With my nerves in freckles, I would ask me many disturbing questions. What if my magic failed me? What if I could once again be victim to death? I would end up like brother, dead and forgotten in a cliff side taken by the snow. No matter that I've become a creature of shadow, that all the things I once hold dear to me – the gentle caress of the seasons, the blooming flowers of spring, my faith and religion, the memories of my brother's love – were now venom running in my veins, I still would chose that instead of death. So, to continue undying, I had to uncover the nature of my sorcery and understand how I could protect it, to make so I would never lose it.

The key of my magic was in the yokais. They were the creatures, the monsters and demons that walked the world in the long forgotten past, like those shadows that attacked me in the monastery. They were all creatures of magic, and the same magic that made possible for them to exist, made possible for me to be eternally young and to hold powers beyond any human being could have.

For in the end, reality is a just lie that we believe in. If we believe in something, that thing is real to us. Therefore, the power of belief is the power to control reality, which, in other words, is magic. My sorcery, the one which I learned from that dark tomes, was fueled by the belief in the supernatural. As long as I maintained that belief strong, my magic would continue to live on. Simple.

And with that realization I gained a new identity. I became an yokai hunter, a monster slayer. Every village I went, I would offer my services to cleanse the place of all the demons and beasts that lived there. The villagers would gladly accept my offer, praising me as their savior. Then, I would proceed to hunt the creature through the wild. When I found the beast, I would harness it's power, draining the magic out of it, but letting it go. With that, everyone was happy: the humans would be freed from the yokai, the yokai would have its life spared, and I would quench the thirst of my void and feed my magic.

That became my routine, going from village to village offering my services as a hunter. The yokais that I defeated and that I let to run away would, eventually, get stronger and terrorize another village. With that, with more people fearing the yokai, the belief in the supernatural would grow, and I would maintain my power. Hunt yokai, let it escape, wait for it to attack again, rinse and repeat, that was my plan, and that would probably be what I would be doing for the rest of my disgusting rotted life. Forever. And again. And once more. And more. More.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – Boundary of love and hate; the sunset of a hidden monk**

"I'm glad you came to our aid", said the old man. It was late at night, snow covered the doorstep of his house. I was silent. "You seem so young, great Hijiri, and yet so well known and with such mighty power and distinction. If that would not be an intrusive question, could you tell this old man your age and fancy his curiosity?", which I replied "Eighty nine". The man became affected by my words "I'm sorry for disturbing you with my questions, great Hijiri, but you don't need to insult me with such harsh answers, and isn't lying against what Buddha says?". I looked right into his eyes and said "Yes, it is".

The man, shaking his head in sad disbelief, turned his back to me while saying "You should get inside the house. This night will be a cold one, a blizzard might come. You saved our village from the yokai beast that assaulted our camps, and the least we can do is offer you shelter for the night". But I just tightened my boots and walked straight into the mantle of the night. "Wait, Hijiri, it will be very cold. Listen to me...hey". Soon his words would disappear in the waves of winds.

Why do I remember with such detail of that conversation? That was just another one of my jobs during the decades where I hunted monsters and walked the countryside abandoned of objectives. There should be no reason to remember that old house flowered with snow and the old man and his naive questions. But that night became memorable when the stalking void inside my heart erupted in an explosive surge that for many years I did not feel.

I knew that coldness was something that I should avoid. It always brought back to me the images of my brother's death, and those images would always set up my deepest fears in turmoil. For that reason, I used to stay inside when snow started to fall, and would hide myself from the winter, even though my sorceress body could withstand any temperature without any problem.

But, with the passing of time, and the weight of the routine tiring my shoulders, I would get defiant, daredevil, challenging my fate and luck. I would tread that path of stupidity, of wildness, maybe searching for something new, something that could incite some passion in my life again. That might be the reason why I walked direct into that cold night. I don't really know, except of what came after.

The falling snow increased it's rate, and the wind started to howl. Soon I was amidst an intense blizzard when I was going through the mountain pass. My vision was blocked by the wall of white, and walking was soon made impossible by the ice sea that the storm gave birth. I tried to fight, but my own body stopped responding to my command. My mind, always aware, desperately tried to force the muscles to answer to my command, but it was futile. Soon, it was as if I watched myself from a distance to be slowly covered by the falling snow.I blacked out.

I woke up screaming, and in complete dark. All around me, the arid cold texture of snow caressed my flesh. Behind me, I though hearing my brother's voice: "Sleep with me, sister". I yelled and punched my way out of the snow, my superhuman strength being the only thing that saved me from that situation. But, even freed from that tomb of ice, I was still desperate, my throat dry, my chest exploding with fear. The void inside me was hungry, and I could feel my body shaking from the withdraw of magic.

I had to find a source to replenish my sorcery. Bracing myself, I rummaged through the wild, crossing the mountain steps and the forests at its base, searching for any sign of yokai, any magic creature from which I could prey upon. It did not take much time till I found one hidden inside an isolated grove. I would never forget its face.

It was a big, hairy pig beast, with big tusks and some sort of curly mane around its neck. When I laid my eyes upon it, I observed that it was calmly pushing around some amount of grass and wood. The soil was still dense with the snow that fallen on the other day, but the beast didn't mind having to push it through the ice. I could not devise why would that creature be doing such kind of labor, but I could not care less. From surprise I attacked, submitting the beast with my awesome strength and technique. The gigantic pig monster, with its voracious eyes and rapacious tusks... started crying.

"No, please, please, don't hurt me", said the creature in tears. I halted, completely flabbergasted. The monster, seeing that I stopped, crawled to my feet, lamenting: "Why, just answer me why you attacked me! What have I done to you?". I flinched. I was there, standing still, staring at the eyes of the monster, unable to move or talk. The giant pig was the double the size of a horse, it's tusks almost the size of my body, and yet it crawled and weeped at my feet. After a while, I gathered enough strangeness in my heart to utter a shout combined with a powerful slap at the monsters cheek "What do you think you are doing? You are a monster, an yokai! Do something! Fight, kill, maim!", slap, slap, slap.

The poor thing only cried louder and louder with each slap I gave to him. "I never done anything wrong, I was just rebuilding my home. I'm not near your village so, please, let me go, don't exterminate me". I could not buy into that facade, "Is this some sort of plan, foul beast? Did you recognize me as the famous yokai hunter Hijiri and are trying to pretend being some sort of pathetic creature so I will spare your miserable life?". When he heard my name, his features changed to the absolute fear and he cried and screamed even more pathetically than before. I knew that this was no pretending, he was truly a completely docile and stupid yokai.

In all my life, all monsters I encountered were hellish creatures, violent and mean to the bone. They assaulted villages, killed innocents and leaved a path of destruction where they walked. I never felt remorse for beating up such monsters, and it was with great sadness that I let them go. How many people have I killed in consequence of letting those monsters to run away with their lives, just to protect my magic? But never have I find such pitiful yokai. Even though he could easily impale a human being in his tusks, he would not fight me, even before knowing that I was the great yokai hunter Hijiri.

I could not understand what was happening. Many minutes passed, and the monster slowly calmed, equally confused with my strange inaction. "So, you will not exterminate me, terrible Hijiri?" he asked me, still very afraid. I put my palm in my face, tired. What should I do? Beat up that poor creature? I could not do that, it was innocent. I could not beat it and steal it's magic. But the void inside me hungered, and I had to satiate it somehow. I grabbed the creature by its mane: "Tell me where can I find more yokais!". The creature cryed: "But...they are my friends, and they never did anything bad for you, humans. Please, don't hurt them".

I was losing my patience: "Are you telling me that there are more yokais like you? That's impossible, you are all monsters thirsting for blood, eaters of children, destroyers of peace!". When the yokai heard my words, his face became serious and severe. He looked deep in my eyes and said to me, although with the voice trembling with fear: "So, that's what you think of us? When you humans are tired of killing each other, you have to find others to pray upon, I see. Well, kill me. I will not betray my friends".

After that, I just let go my hold on the creatures mane. It continued to look dauntly to my eyes, defiant. I could clearly see his fear of death, but it would not change his mind. It would not betray his friends. I was deeply moved by all of that, and, no matter how strong the void was inside me, tearing my entrails, I could not hurt the yokai. Confused, I gave my back to him and ran.

Somewhere else in that forest I should have to find other yokais. I could not believe in what that pig yokai said, of other yokais like him. If there are many like that, pacific, tender and kind, why, in all my years, have I only encountered cruel and violent beasts of nightmare? As those thoughts pierced through my conscience, I made my way through the forest.

Was I wrong all this time? Did the yokai I hunted and hurt be just peaceful and misunderstood animals? No, it cannot be. I've seen them, I've fight them. They were hulking beasts, they defended themselves, they were fierce in battle. But, were they all of that because of their nature, or because I attacked them first? In fact, I always attacked those yokais following the directions of the people in the villages that I walked to. Did the villagers lie to me?

Across the forest, I've met other yokais. Some would run at first sight of me. Others would defend themselves, with fear and sadness in their eyes. Others would attack me, brute and violent. There was not a single answer equal to two of them. All responded differently. All of them were unique creatures, with their own feelings, aspirations, wishes and desires. Like humans. Like me.

Have I ever lived inside a lie, another lie that reality told to me? The yokai, the monsters of myth, they were just like humans. Some of them were pacific, kind. Others were cruel and belligerent. Some were slothful and funny. Others, industrious and serious. Some were lonely, others had family. I could never see that before because mankind never truly understood yokais, always considering them different, monsters, things to be dealt with violence and destruction. But now, I've seen the truth. And that devastated me.

For many days I roamed through the wild, watching many yokais in my path. All the while, the void grew and grew inside me, risking to take control of all my being. But I could not fight the yokais anymore. I've seen them for what they are, just another group of beings trying to live in this crazy world of suffering, trying to get on with their lives and attain that fabled 'happiness' that all of us, humans and yokais, try to reach. Weak, tired, at my breaking limit I climbed the side of a mountain far away from everything – any human village, any yokai lair. I searched for the place farthest away of any contact to any creature that I could talk too, and that could talk with me. Then, inside a cave, I pushed a rock in front of the entrance, and casted me apart of the world.

As once did great resplendent Amaterasu, goddess of the sun, I also hid myself. Deep within the heart of the earth, I would sit down and quietly smile my final dream. There I was, my back resting on the rock walls. I was defeated. My mind was shattered by fear, my spirit destroyed by the revelations of the unforgivable sins I've committed, my body was consumed by the hunger of that endless void. That, I felt, was my final moment. I could not live on anymore, I could not continue. I would not feed that void in me by hurting anyone, I would not live in lies and deceits. I would not continue to pollute that pure and kind flower that once brother kissed so lovely.

I slowly sang the mantras. The void roared, demanding me to obey it. I saw my brother dead in the snow, his body standing up, his cold hands aiming for my neck. "What have you done?". I could not answer. If I opened my mouth for just a moment, tears would come out from my eyes, and I would be shattered by them. "Why could you not let go?", he said and once more I could not answer. Should I ask for forgiveness? My mouth was shut, yet it still sang the mantras, slowly. In my mind, brother's hand compressed my neck. "Why could you not let be?". And now I was dying. Finally, I was dying. My heart stopped. My body became a big cloud of smooth acceptance. My mind ceased thought, and my soul could feel itself drifting away...

..."I love you".


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – The colors of eternity; a ship with sails made of dreams**

Who said that? Where did it come from? I was dead, or should be, but something woke me up. I was not sure, maybe another illusion. I did not know, all my senses were nullified. My mind was silent, my soul departed, my body cold. Yet, what was this that I heard? ..."I love you". There, I heard it again! How? When? Where? I felt my heart beat one time. But I was dead, I was truly dead. Is life more then being alive? How?

I love you... Who loves me? Brother? Yes, he loved me, but it was not his voice. I love you, yes, I do. Do I love myself? Is that my voice? No, it is not. But, nevertheless, there was that voice, coming from inside me, outside me, between me, in between me, besides me, behind, under, over, through me. It was powerful. It was me, all of me, in all directions, in all times, in all places, screaming to the world, with the most that I could, that I loved it. And the world answered me... "I love you".

I opened my eyes, smiling. I touched myself, my body, my hips, my belly, my breast, my neck, my face, my head, my hair. I'm alive. This is all a miracle. I'm awake. I'm wild awake! I cried, this time with no fear of shattering. I cried because I needed. I cried because I wanted. Because of the sadness of the past, because of the happiness of the past. I cried because I have to, and because it was the hardest and easiest thing to do. It was the most human and animal thing to do. I cried and hugged myself, and laughed and smiled and grinned. "I love you!" I screamed completely in silence.

Those words had no true meaning. In fact, they had a meaning greater than any word could convey. When I've risen from the darkness that day in the mausoleum of shadows, I felt infinite. Today, when I cried and laughed in the soul of everything, I _was _infinite. Once, my body was all the darkness in the world. Now, it was the world itself, and the world was me. "I love you!" I screamed, now with my mouth wide open and my voice echoing inside the ear of the mountain, coming back to me in a cascade eternal of kind words... "I love you...I love you".

I walked, my legs weak. It was hard to move, I was laughing too much. I was too happy. I became friends with the darkness inside the cave. I kissed it and asked it to help me to find the exit. It guided me through the entrance, and I kissed it again, thanking for its kindness. Then, I asked the boulder barring the exit if it could stand aside and let me go, and the boulder gladly slipped away. I walked my first steps out of the world. When Amaterasu did the same in the past, she basked the world in sunlight. When I did it now, I was basked by the sunlight. And it burned my soul with gladness.

It was perfection in colors, the sky at the sunset. Twilight was all over me, all the tones of dark entwining and dancing with the tones of light. I whispered words of caring to the wind. The ambiance was a painting covering me with joy. It was liquid, I was swimming in colors, tasting them like flowers, like the purest lotus blooming in the most kind of sanctuaries. The smell of a calm river licked my temples, and over my head the moon sang to me tunes that reddened my face with lustful desires. Then my eyes rested upon the majestic sun, and it blessed me with peace. The rays of the twilight sunset loved me, and painted my hair with the color of my all. My dear heart, my kind mind, my beautiful body and my wholesome soul – I'm sorry I was so harsh with you all, I'm sorry that I've mistreated you all so much. I was one and all again. I was Byakuren. I was the itinerary pure lotus monk. I was Byakuren Hijiri.

I watched the sun waving good bye for the day, and the moon taking its post, guiding all lost hearts in the night sky. I felt warmer than ever before. Inside me, the void was gone. That guilt and shame were lifted from me. The wind blew in my face, and it was tender and smooth and adorable. I was not a stranger anymore, exiled from everything, unwelcome and despised. I was but a peaceful wanderer, a flower blooming in love. What is love? Whatever else could I name that warm caring that permeated my very being?

I was for the stars, I was for the everstanding firmament. I was for them, I was for me. I could the clouds. I would the rivers. I did for all. I've been for none. That untranslatable, nameless emotion lifted me. I would could did be for and to and through. I was scrapping the skies, a tower of emotions. I could listen the heartbeat of the world inside my palm, and I cared so much for it. That, all that I said, all that I tried to conjecture, that is the love I felt, for love is the only word vague enough to express my utter dedication and emotion towards that beautiful, strong, weak, tiny and big heart forever beat of the world.

There I sat, completely realized. The night passed through my eyes, and soon the morning sun was greeting me with a smile. Atop my head, now, my hair was painted purple with all my emotions, and I felt my destiny being rewritten by my and the world's hand. I would walk the world as a protector, as a peace keeper. No more should I hurt the innocent, by they monsters or humans. I would protect all, care for all. With both my hands, both my strong arms of iron, I would be there, I would for them all, I could for them all. I would endure all the eight sufferings, I would teach, I would heal, I would fight. For I loved them all with utmost sincerity.

A new legend was brewing at the mouth of the people. The land of Gensokyo would face a new heroine. Not a yokai hunter, but a defender of peace and understanding of both humans and monsters. No one would receive an unfair punishment. All had the right to live and thrive in this big, bright world. All had the right to search for happiness. Everyone was confused, both mankind and yokai kind. They did not know how to deal with that changed Hijiri, the new Byakuren, with gold for its locks of hair, but crowed with a purple crown at the top of her head.

Still I hunted that vile and violent yokais, those that would terrorize and kill innocent humans. But I also defended the ones that would be terrorized and killed by humans. When the cropping season arrived, I would invite all to a dance for the gods and to hear me singing the mantras, and would try bringing close together both worlds. Although many of those meetings were failures, I have to say that I had some margin of success. Many friendships were made in those bright days of the past. I've seen happy children playing with their yokai friends, and more than once I ministered a lovely union between a human and a yokai.

Even so, many opposed my view. Governors would fear this new kind of order, thinking this to spoil the right balance of the world and to threaten their rule. Not only humans, but also yokais feared my resolve, saying that this was not the truth of their nature, that they should raze cities and terrify humans instead. But, for each yokai and human that downed my words, at least two would congregate, brought together by the undeniable truth that, yes, we were all one and we could be happy together.

So I walked my path, the fire of my destiny rekindled by a new hope. High and low, near and far I went, spreading my message of peace. Soon enough, many would follow me, hearing me talking about Buddhism, dancing with me or just glad to be near the strange wanderer Byakuren, the venerable Hijiri. Because of my work, going from place to place, no one could follow me forever, and old faces would be left behind, while new ones would join me. It was then that I began teasing with the idea of building me a temple, where I could teach the dharma of Buddha and protect those around me.

I remember well when those thoughts came to me. It was when I heard stories of a yokai of immense power capsizing ships. The memory of a little girl's suffering, drowning to death, Minamitsu Murasa was her name. She started by luring fishers to their doom inside the bottom of rivers, but, now, her power was such that whole ships would be pray for her. I could not allow that to continue.

I would not defy her rage. I would not challenge her power. Grabbing a simple boat, I ventured through the sea and went to her, my face austere, although serene. There, at the coast, arms very opened, she awaited me. She heard that the almighty Byakuren, the great terminator was coming for her. And she delighted that idea, that fanciful wish to drown the mighty yokai slayer and ascend, become a yokai of myth, a god of the unfortunate souls forever lost to the sea. When she saw the maiden monk sailing in her direction with nothing but a boat, she felt confused.

"I'm Murasa! - screamed her, the voice of storms and rain, - I'm the great silencer, the drowner, the ender of screams! By my mighty embrace, I make the doors of the oceans rusted shut. I close the skies with my glare, and my rage is thunder! Not even the gods of the west, Poseidon and his Trident, nor Iara and her beauty can defy me. Would they tread my ocean, even they would drown and die! And who, Byakuren Hijiri, came to me with but a boat to show? Have you came to claim for mercy? Know that no mercy shall be had, and that I will ravage you as a tide hunter demon!".

The waters begin to wild up, but my face continued calm, not stirred by her demonstration of power. "Yes, I'm Byakuren Hijiri, the lotus flower monk, but I came with this boat not to make less of you, my dear Murasa, nor to plead mercy. I came to talk, to play and to laugh with you. Come down from that edged cliff. If you can close even the skies, close shut your fury and come down with me, let's sing together songs better than the screams of suffering".

Murasa ignored it all. With a wave of her hand, the waters became a whirlwind, dragging me with it. It's strength was beyond natural, the water was sticky as if the hands of the death grabbed my body and pulled me down. The whole ocean was holding me, with all it's body weighting me down to the bottom. The yokai spirit laughed, her victory was at hand. She destroyed Byakuren. Her legend would grow, and she would be feared and adored by all, the drowner of gods!

But her moment of victory did not last. At the bottom of ocean, I saw many great capsized ships, but one was deeper and greater than all. It was the Palanquin. I swam to it, my body, protected by my powerful sorcery, was unaffected by the lack of air and the extreme pressure. When I got closer to it, I saw and I saw the face of Murasa in its walls, her own memories inside it. That was the ship were died into. I touched the ship's cask and smiled at it. My magic involved the ship, the whole of it, and we ascended to the surface.

Suddenly, the gigantic ship, restored to it's golden times, all shimmering with gold and silver, was over the waters once again and going higher and higher. It's sails were pushed by the wind, making it take off flight, letting behind and under it all that vastness of water. Murasa was extremely moved. Her screams ceased, traded by silent tears that run wild through her dazed face.

"I can not offer you the forgiveness of those you killed, neither can I change your tragic past. But I can offer you a new flower of life, and the choice of a future." I said, smiling. Murasa saw the shinning saint glistening, basked in the sun rays, a purple crown in her hair. She did not know what she could do. "Would you help me sailing in those winds of ephemera and navigate other tormented souls through this sea of life, my lost but found Murasa?".

Smiling for the first time in centuries, the girl answered: "Yes...yes...yes!". And, glowing towards the great flying Palanquin, she joined Byakuren, and the two of them sailed away in the skies.


End file.
